Middlebury register. (Middlebury, Vt.) 1886-1937, 1887-02-25

SOuiVs iiitlS pulcHeS VI CRIMSON clover,
patches Of white clover, beds of orange
trnfoils, beds of bluest speedwell, and tall
red ragged robins everywhere. Then
there was the hum of the bees. as they
bummed from flower to flower. the sweet
perfume of the clover and the wild, glad
notes of the chafiie near his nest in the
larc tree. And-yes, and Jamie S Voice.
sweetcr to me than all. Did love Jamie?
L dinna ken. Jamie never what YOU
might call made love to me, but | dare
say l did like him a wee bit. Bonnie
black hair had Jamie, blue, blue cen, rosy
dimpled cheeks, a cocllit bonnet wi long
strings that iluttered DER his back and
shoulders, and such q winsome smile!
No, he never made love like, but he
would talk for an hour at q time about
his horses and kye, and l used just to
look and laugh and listen.
You may be think I'm dwelling too
long on my younger days and our happy
life at the little farm on the braehead-
but the rest of my STORY is all so sad.
I'm sure enough that neither Johnnie
nor l ever gave thought for tomorrow.
In this respect we fulfilled the Scriptures
right enough. 1t never struck us that
our present life would not last till we
closed our eyes for aye and went to sleep
in the moods.
But one wet, rough winters evening.
with the wind moaning in the chimney
and the cold snow and sleet tearing over
the hills and through the woods, father
came home looking wan and queer. No,
no, l cannot dwell ON this. That night
no fnC1- 10 e IL
doctors attention, in spite of the kind
ness Of an English lady who was dwell
ing at the big house, he slipt quietly
away one night and joined our mother
in heaven.
What a change! The funeral past and
a broken up home. Everything except
the old eight-day clock, which Grannie
wouldn't part with, sold by roup, Gran
ME herself dwelling in little hut by the
hillside, and Johnnie a soldier in the gal
liant Forty-twa. And right handsome
did lie look in his Highland dress with
his brawny legs and his bonnet and
plumes.
And Ia simple servant lassie. For
the kind English lady had taken quito a
fancy to me and l was bound for the
south as her maid. As the train rolled
away from the station, as l lost sight Of
the woods, and hills and bonnie braes
what could l do but lean back in a corner
of the carriage and cry-lassic like Poor
Jamie. tool
Grief dc>s not break young hearts, and
in my new home at Southsea, everything
was very new indeed, and my heart leapt
up one day with a nameless JOY when l
heard that the Forty-second was coming
to Portsmouth.
My mistress was kindness itself, and
consideration, too. She was lady,
though not rich and I'm sure would
have bitten her tongue at any time rather
than say single word to wound the
feelings or hurt the heart of simple SER
want lassie. All! would that all mis-
tresses were the same! She never him
dered me from going out, and, indeed,
often suggested it. And SO, many were
the walks Johnnie and had on the
ramparts, and many talk of the dear
old times that even now seemed SO far
away.
And my mistress had always kind
word and smile for me, and talked so
any time l believe l would have laid
down my life to save hers. After few
months of Portsmouth life my mistress
and l started to spend q few weeks in
France. Johnnie saw us off, and | think
l see the handsome, manly boy yet, with
the sunny smile on his sunburnt face, in
the dark tartan kilt and white spats,
standing there on the station waving us
good by with his bonnet and plumes.
We were two months away, but re-
turned at last, and the very next morn
ing | went to see for Johnnie.
l was rounding the corner of q street,
when the slow, half muffied sound of
drums fell on my ear, and presently
could hear the music itself. 1t was a
dirge, q coronach, played by the pipcrs.
1t was no ordinary dead march. Itwas the
grand old hymn, Johnnie's song and
mine:
o! come-come-wth-m
To-the-auld-Kirk yard
To every word there was stroke of
the drum and step of the men. And
yonder is the coffin and the bonnet and
feathers.
"Who is-d-d-dead?' I cried
clutching the arm Of a soldier who stood
near me.
He must have seen was choking.
He put enc arm round my waist kindly
as he replied:
poor Jack Mclean, my lass. Are
you his sweetheart"
l remember nothing moro for weeks
for all this time lay raving with brair
fever.
A year had passed away and a change
had come over my situation in life. Fol
my dear, kind mistress was obliged to give
up house and go abroad, and l was en-
gagged as general servant to a lady il
| Portsmouth.
Now l was to know what indeed i
meant to be a simple servant lassic under
a thoughtless and unkind mistress. Per
haps she did not really mean to be un
kind, perhaps she could not help it. l be
lievc that, hard though her heart I'm
doubleday was, she would often have fel
for me could she but have known how
her words used to burn into nv feelings